The Frontier Angel: A Romance of Kentucky Rangers' Life

In the meantime Peter Jenkins had managed to fall into an unpleasant predicament.

Upon the departure of Dingle, he made up his mind to obey every letter of his instructions. Accordingly, he squeezed himself into the smallest space possible, and curled obediently up on the ground. He lay thus perhaps a half-hour, when he fell sound asleep. This was unintentional on his part; but the fatigue of the expedition, and the time he had passed, without slumber, were too much for him, and he finally succumbed.

He would have slept, in all probability, until the return of Dingle, had it not been for a purely accidental circumstance. As his slumbers grew more heavy, he gave two or three jerks, and finally straightened out upon his back. In doing this, he naturally threw his hands backward, and by the merest accident in the world, struck a toad that sat blinking a foot or two distant. The creature made a startled leap and plumped down square in his face, but immediately sprang off again. It, however, seemed to awaken Jenkins, who rose to the sitting position, and entirely unmindful of where he was, commenced talking, in a mumbling tone, to himself.

"Like to know who that feller was that hit me in the face. Liked to knocked me out of bed; s'pose it was Dingle, though – just like him – makes my nose feel awful cold. Queer a feller can't sleep when he wants to – all-fired mean to 'sturb a person that way. Lay over on your own side, Dick. Hello! he ain't here! Look at these bushes! – Thunderation! where am I?"

He stared bewilderingly about him. Gradually a recollection of his situation came to him. And then he was filled with apprehension lest he had betrayed himself. He listened carefully for a few minutes, but hearing nothing, judged that matters were all right; and, as he was excessively sleepy, he dropped languidly back again, and was falling rapidly into a state of unconsciousness, when he was waked again.

The fact was he had been overheard by a couple of brawny Shawnees who, at that moment, were passing within a few feet of him. They dropped noiselessly to the earth, and commenced making their way toward him, as he fell back so unconsciously.

In the meantime, one of those little, active, prying dogs, that are always bobbing around an Indian village, made the same discovery. He ran fearlessly up to the prostrate man, poked his cold nose against his cheek, and gave a loud bark that electrized Jenkins completely. Remembering the parting admonition of Dingle, to "fire and run," in case of discovery, he seized his gun, blazed away at the dog, and turned on his heel.

Even then he might have effected his escape, had it not been for the dog mentioned. The Indians suspecting he was a scout, were taken all aback by the unexpected manner in which he acted, and hesitated so long before following, that, as we said, he might have escaped, had it not been for the dog. The creature was unhurt by his shot, and with a yelp of alarm, sprang in front of him. Jenkins was too confused to notice him, the dog got entangled between his legs, and he pitched headlong to the ground. Before he could rise the Indians were upon him, and yelling with exultation.

"We kill – if fight – no run," muttered one in broken English.

"Jerusalem! I won't run – don't kill me. I won't run at least with you two fellers on my back. Don't kill me!"

"Stand up – quick!"

"Yes, I will – don't kill me!"

One of the savages had already secured his rifle; and, as he arose, one stood on either side of him and took a firm hold of his arms. By this time there were a score of other savages around, all dancing, shouting, and yelling; and in the midst of them our friend Jenkins was marched into the center of the Indian village.

Immediately a score of Shawnees scattered into the wood, to ascertain whether there were any more whites lurking in the vicinity, while Jenkins was hurried into a lodge, thrown upon his face, his hands tied securely behind him, and his feet locked as tightly together, as if they had been screwed in a vice.

"Consarn it! what's the use in serving a feller that way? I told you I wouldn't run away, and you shouldn't doubt my word."

Some eight or nine remained to guard, but no one seemed disposed to heed his request.

"You ugly old heathen, standing there by the door, grinning at me, just loosen these cords, will you?" said Jenkins. The Indian, still paying no attention to his entreaties. Jenkins supposed he did not understand the English language; and he repeated his request in a louder tone, as though that would assist his understanding. But with no better effect. "I don't want the cords loosened – wouldn't have them untied if you wanted to do it," he added, sullenly.

As his captors still evinced no desire to do anything more than watch him, he resigned himself sullenly to his fate, and ceased speaking.

The night wore slowly away without any noticeable change taking place in his condition. Sleep, under the existing circumstances, was out of the question, and Jenkins contented himself – if the expression is allowable – with maintaining a moody silence, varied now and then by a gratuitous insult to those around, which, luckily for him, they failed to comprehend.

While this sleepless guard was being kept upon our unfortunate friend, there was another tribunal, as sleepless and vastly more important to him. In the chieftain's lodge was assembled half a hundred warriors, debating the matter of life or death. It could be hardly said there was a debate upon that either; for all agreed that their victim should die – agreed that he should not only die, but be burned at the stake!

They were considering only when this should be done. It could not be expected there would be a single dissenting voice as to his fate, and there was none. But the question was whether the war-expedition should be deferred by consummating the torture, or whether it should be left over until they returned. It was their intention to start upon the morrow for the settlement which we have so often referred to; and rightly fearing that every hour of delay was a day's gain to their intended victims, it was at last decided that Jenkins should be kept until their return, when he should suffer the awful torture of death by fire. They knew their passions would be inflamed to that pitch that the agonies of their prisoner's torment would be the most exquisite pleasure they could enjoy.

Most fortunate, indeed, for Jenkins was it that the renegade was not present at that council. Had he been, he never would have seen the light of another morning; for he had learned long before that no white prisoner was sure to them until he had been a victim to their vengeance. The renegade had left only a day or two before for the Indian towns in the Sciota valley, and consequently knew nothing of Jenkins' capture.

When the morning dawned, there was great commotion throughout the village. The final preparations were made for the departure of the war-party.

Jenkins heard the confusion and clamor around him, but he was in no mood to care what they were doing. A sort of stolid indifference had succeeded to the excessive fear he had at first evinced.

"Darnation! I don't care what they do! They can burn me and eat me, if they want to! Let 'em blaze away!"

Shortly after daybreak, the war-party departed. About a dozen men remained behind to guard the village, and see that no attempt was made to free the prisoner, while a whole host of squaws and children raised bedlam. The lodge in which Jenkins was confined was completely beset by them. At first his guards allowed them to rush in and torment him in their characteristic manner – such as pulling his hair, pinching, and striking him with sticks. Finally his patience became exhausted.

"By thunder! if you don't take these things off I'll kill every one of them!" he exclaimed, furiously wriggling and tugging at his bonds.

The Indians enjoyed the sport hugely, especially the impotent wrath he displayed. They made no attempt to restrain the excited multitude, until they became so numerous and boisterous, that for their own convenience, they cleared the lodge of the tormentors.

"You'd better done that just then," said the prisoner. "I was just getting ready to knock some of their brains out."

At noon he was given some meat and drink, and he ate ravenously, for his situation seemed to have little effect upon his appetite. His usual fear and subsequent indifference had now given way to a perfect recklessness. Goaded to madness, he cared not a straw what he did. He swore within himself that he would make his escape before morning, though how to effect it wasn't plain even to himself.

His guard maintained their sullen watch until dark, when the clamorous crowd again commenced pressing around. They were restrained from entering, but they continued yelling and pressing against the lodge till, all at once, the side gave way, and fell inward. Those pressing against it were so numerous that they poured irresistibly forward, piling in a mass upon Jenkins, kicking and struggling to free themselves, and making the confusion perfectly horrid by their yells. To make the matter still worse, the sudden incoming of the multitude had extinguished the burning torches, so that all was in total darkness.

Jenkins, feeling the mass upon him, became doubly enraged and made furious efforts to free himself. But the cords were too firm, and he finally gave up in despair.

Immediately he felt some one fingering around him; and to his inexpressible astonishment found the cords at his feet and hands cut, and he was now perfectly free. He lost no time in taking advantage of this providential intercourse of some one. Springing to his feet, he turned to make a dash through the open side of the lodge. At that moment a soft hand touched his, and some one, pulling his head downward, whispered eagerly in his ear:

"Don't stop! run as fast as you can!"

"You may bet I'll do that," he replied, although he scarcely heard his own voice in the deafening uproar around him.

Of course, in the darkness, it was impossible to distinguish the prisoner. When the building crashed inward, two or three savages hurried off for torches, while several more sprang to the opening to intercept his flight, should he attempt it. As they knew his bonds were too firm to be broken, they had little fear of this, but adopted these precautions in obedience to their cautious instincts. But Jenkins avoided them all. He made a spring outward, a literal "leap in the dark," ran a short distance in a straight line, until, as might be expected, he brought up all standing against a lodge that happened to be in his way. There were none inside, for the tumult in the village had drawn them out, and he suffered no injury, except a few scratches. Without stopping to ascertain the damages, he made an abrupt turn to the left, and hurrying onward, found himself, in a few seconds, clear of the town and in the dark wood.

The lights were soon recovered and brought to the lodge from which he had fled. Held in the entrance, they revealed a swarm of dark, struggling bodies, piled pell-mell upon each other. Under the light of the smoking-torches, these regained their feet in an incredible short space of time. Then to the unutterable astonishment of the Shawnees, it was found that the prisoner had escaped.

The Indians stood completely dumbfounded for a moment, totally unable to realize that such was the case. But a Shawnee Indian rarely gives way to his emotions, and when he does, it does not last long. A long, wild, lengthened howl conveyed the dismal intelligence that the white man had fled to the woods.

Now the pursuit and search commenced. Lights were gleaming and flitting through the trees, like frantic fire-flies, and the eager savages were darting and yelling in every direction. Signals were given and returned, and all imaginable artifices adopted.

But a pursuit, under such disadvantages, could hardly be expected to be successful. And it did not prove so in this case. Jenkins knew well how to use his legs, especially when his life depended upon them; and the manner in which he flew through the forest would have made an ordinary Indian despair at once. He had nearly the entire night before him, and he hardly halted for breathing time until morning. The moon arose toward midnight, and so lit up the wood that it would have been exceedingly dangerous for him had his pursuers been anywhere in the vicinity. But they were not, and he had it all to himself.

At morning he was so exhausted that he threw himself upon the ground, at the roots of a fallen tree, and slept heavily. Slept until near the middle of the afternoon, and then he would not have awakened, had not a visitor helped him to recall his wits. He opened his eyes and started with unbounded astonishment at seeing before him that mysterious being known as the Frontier Angel. She stood a few feet away, surveying him with a look of mild joy, and holding in her right hand a rifle which he instantly recognized as his own.

"So you made your escape, did you?" she remarked, seeing that he said nothing.

"Hello! how are you? Glad to see you. How's your folks? Been well?" asked Jenkins, suddenly thinking he had been remiss in his usual politeness. These questions were accompanied by a profound bow and scrape of his foot upon the earth.

The being before him paid no heed to these demonstrations, but repeated her remark:

"So you made your escape, did you?"

"Very well, I thank you, how's your health?"

"You have escaped, I say?"

"Oh! yes, a pleasant day."

The personage paused and looked at him in astonishment. The truth of the matter was, Jenkins was so confused that he did not comprehend a single remark made by her. He continued bowing and scraping and speaking incoherently until, at last, his senses returned. The Frontier Angel merely gazed at him with a wondering expression, in which not a particle of mirth could be seen. Waiting a few moments, she once more repeated her remark.

"Oh – you spoke of escape, did you? Yes, I managed to get away myself."

"Were you not bound?"

"Oh, yes; with tremendous big cords."

"How did you free yourself of them?"

"Broke them all by my giant strength, ma'm," he replied, valiantly.

"You are mistaken, sir."

"Oh! was it you that cut them when we was in the muss?" he asked, eagerly.

"I cut them and admonished you to fly. You should not take the credit yourself," mildly replied the visitor.

"I didn't know as you done it, or I wouldn't said so," said Jenkins, somewhat crestfallen at being so caught.

"How came you to be captured?" she continued, standing in front of him, and keeping her dark eyes fixed upon him.

"Overpowered by main force! I'd like to see the man that could withstand forty-three Shawnee Indians."

"Were there that many who assailed you?"

"Well, I couldn't say positively now – perhaps more or less. To speak within bounds, we'll call it forty-two."

"And where is he who was with you?"

"Who? – Dick Dingle? He wouldn't stay and fight, but run and left me behind to meet all the danger."

"You were scouts, then, sent to reconnoiter the Indians, I suppose. In doing so, you were captured by your enemies, while your companion escaped. But, thanks to the great Ruler above, you were also delivered from death. Your friend, from what I know of him, leads me to the belief that he gained enough knowledge of the Indians to answer all purposes. And he will be able to give all information to the settlements which I was unable to give."

"S'pect so. Leastways I know, when I get home, I'll be able to give our settlement a great deal of information that they never knowed or dreamt on before."

"I have followed your trail, my friend, to come up with you and find out what I have just learned. I rejoice to learn that it has turned out thus. And now I will bid you good-by. Do not delay, for, although you are a great way from the Indian town, there may be many and swift pursuers upon your trail."

"Say! hold on a minute!" called out Jenkins, springing toward her, first reaching out his hand, and then suddenly withdrawing it, as he remembered what he had heard said would be the consequences of such an act.

"What do you want?" she asked, turning round and facing him.

Now, the truth of the matter was, Jenkins had fallen desperately in love with this singular personage. And, all things considered, it could not be wondered at. Arrayed in her fantastic Indian dress, her beauty was certainly wild and wonderful. Gay, painted eagle and porcupine quills formed a fiery head-dress, which contrasted well with the long, luxuriant hair of jetty blackness, that rolled unrestrained down her shoulders. The face was small and a delicate oval, the eyelashes long and black, the nose thin and small, and the teeth of pearly pureness. Viewed from the side, the profile was perfectly straight from the upper part of the forehead to the base of the nose, from which point it slightly retreated to the chin. The eyes were dark, and when fixed upon a person, wore a meek, mild expression; at other times they fairly blazed with fire. A dress of dazzling colors reached from the shoulders to the ankles, and was confined at the waist by a band of gleaming red. The feet were encased in small, ornamented moccasins which displayed the symmetrical limbs to advantage. Several rows of wampum were hung around the neck and waist, and the whole dress was such as an Indian chief would put upon his princess.

When she turned so abruptly and faced Jenkins, he was considerably disconcerted. Upon any other occasion, he would have hesitated and stammered

"I just want to speak a word with you. I s'pose you know Dick Dingle, don't you? that feller that left me so cowardly?"

"Yes," she replied, without changing a feature or removing her gaze from him.

"Well, I was just going to say – that is – I wouldn't have anything to do with him. He is an awful mean man; I wouldn't speak to him."

"Why?" was the same quiet question.

"Oh! 'cause he's so everlastingly mean. Darnation! haven't I told you a thousand times? How many more times are you going to ask me?"

"Is that all?"

"Yes – no – hold on!"

"What else do you wish?"

"I want to know if – if – if you don't like him, do you now?" suddenly broke forth Jenkins.

The maiden began acting strangely. Her eyes brightened, her lips quivered, and she seemed striving to say something. She controlled her emotion in a moment, and sweeping her hand over her eyes, looked calmly at her questioner, but without deigning a reply.

"Don't you – don't you – don't you love me now? I do you!" besought our friend, going down on his knees in true, sentimental style.

The Frontier Angel gazed calmly on him a moment, then raised her eyes, turned on her heel, and disappeared in the forest.

CHAPTER IX.

PETER JENKINS – A COUPLE OF SPEECHES

"Consarn her, I don't care nothin' for her. I was just fooling; I only got down to see where she had put my rifle. Wonder where she got it from! She's awful ugly. S'pect Dingle has been telling her some lies about me. By gracious! if I'd only thought about her shooting that arrer at me, she'd have cotched it. Wonder if it would have killed a feller if he'd touched her! I wouldn't risk it, no how. She is purty —somewhat. Never mind, I don't care, though I should like to know who she is. It's time I was tramping home, or the folks will begin to worry about me!"

Soliloquizing thus, Jenkins took his rifle, which he saw was still loaded, and once more turned his face homeward. Let us precede his arrival at the settlement.

Dingle, upon starting, after he deemed it useless to wait for Jenkins, had made all haste through the wood, and proceeded much faster than the war-party which started the next day. Nothing occurred to interrupt his journey, and in due time he made his appearance before the block-house. He was joyfully welcomed back by all. The fate of Jenkins was sincerely regretted by every one, but under the circumstances it could not be helped. He was known to all, and although from his suspected cowardice he commanded little respect, his loss was none the less mourned.

"They're paintin' and greasin' themselves, so that they can slip around easy like, and they're just ready to start agin some settlement. More than that, boys, they've started afore now, and their faces are turned this way and you've jest got time to git ready to invite 'em in."

"How many?" inquired the commander of the post.

"Can't tell, but a powerful heap. Howsumever there ain't more than we can give 'Hail Columbia.' I don't think there'll be any Shawnees except from the upper town on Mad river. The imps in the other towns have got enough other deviltry to attend to, and I s'pect this is a kinder independent affair for the Piqua skunks."

The news of Dingle, as might be expected, occasioned the greatest excitement throughout the little encampment. The settlers, with compressed and silent lips, commenced moving the most valuable part of their furniture into the block-house, while the women, "whispering with white lips," moved hurriedly about, uttering their supplications continually.

As for the men in the block-house, they were in the highest of spirits. It had been a long time since anything had occurred to break the monotony of their life, and they hailed with delight the prospect of storms ahead. When one of the men became so boisterous, that the commander endeavored to check him, by telling him that the fight would probably be a desperate and bloody one, the fellow actually sprang off his feet, swung his hat over his head, and shouted, "Glory!"

Peterson had returned the day before Dingle, but without any news to alarm the settlement. The Indians in the Sciota valley were as quiet as usual, and there was no evidence to show that they intended a hostile expedition. The attack, as said by Dingle, and also by the Frontier Angel, was most probably contemplated by those at the Piqua town alone.

After most of the preparations had been completed, Abbot called Dingle aside, and asked him whether he had learned anything of McGable.

"He wasn't in that village," he replied.

"I suppose you are sure of it."

"Yes, for I surrounded the village two or three times, and if he'd have been thar', I'd seen him. I seen the chiefs, and could have shot any reds I'd been asked to."

"Peterson says he is not in the towns either, which he visited, for he examined each most thoroughly. How can it be? Where is he?"

"I've found out that he is at the village at the head of the Little Miami most of the time. Thar's where he is now, you may bet a considerable."

"Do you suppose he will be with the attacking Indians?"

"P'r'aps so, though it can't be told for a startin thing. I s'pose you'd like to know where me and Jim are going to catch him. You needn't think we're going to give it up. We ain't, 'cause we've set our hearts on it; and as soon as these reds as ar' comin' here get a little taste of us, the thing's going to be done. 'Cause why? Dick Dingle and Jim Peterson has said so."

"I hope you will learn of the fate of poor Marian, for I believe her mother will not live three months longer if you do not. When she finds out for certain, that her child is dead, and gone to her rest, she may bear up under this great affliction."

"Hold still a minute," said Dingle, as if a sudden thought had struck him. "Now there's Frontier Angel; she knows all about the Injin affairs, and I shouldn't wonder ef she could tell you somethin' about her. Freeze me to death, why didn't I think of it? I know she can."

"Frontier Angel, who is she? I have heard her spoken of as an Indian maiden, of whom nothing is known except that she is one of the best friends the settlers ever had."

"So she is – so she is; ef it hadn't been for her two or three times, thar' would have been some big ha'r raising done by the reds. She finds out nearly all their deviltry, and she's bound to let the whites know it."

"Do you know where she is now?"

"Tellin' the settlements to keep their eyes peeled, or maybe she's gone up to Heaven a little while. You needn't laugh, for she's a sperit– she's an angel, sure. Lew Whetzel says so, and I know she is, too."

"Why do you suppose she is such a being?"

"She's jest like one. She's as purty and as good. No one knows whar's she has come from, or whar' she goes to. She is allers alone, and goes about in the night. She ain't afeared of nothin', while everything is afeared of her."